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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29965494">drippin' like a saturated sunrise</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluesandbirds/pseuds/bluesandbirds'>bluesandbirds</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>crushed colors stricken ill [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Brotherly Bonding, Child Neglect, Dream Smp, Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Family Crynamics, Family Dynamics, Gen, Hair Dyeing, Philza Minecraft's A+ Parenting, Pre-Canon, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:28:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,734</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29965494</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluesandbirds/pseuds/bluesandbirds</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Here's a little-known fact: TommyInnit isn't naturally blond.<br/><br/>The first time he dyed his hair, it was in a fit of impulsivity and terrible planning.<br/>The next was the product of some misplaced hope.<br/>It develops into a habit.</p><p>in a world of gods and monsters and magic, tommyinnit being a brunet is a normal sort of weird. he makes it his best kept secret anyways.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Wilbur Soot &amp; TommyInnit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>crushed colors stricken ill [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2247903</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>123</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1414</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Completed stories I've read, Dream SMP Fics (Mainly Tommy (Yeah I'm That Bitch))</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>drippin' like a saturated sunrise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>title from halsey's "colors"</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Wilbur gets home, the house is quiet. That’s his first sign that things are amiss.</p><p>The second is when he goes upstairs and Tommy's room is empty, but there’s a sliver of yellow light spilling out from underneath the bathroom door.</p><p>Cautiously, he toes over to the door and presses his ear against it.</p><p>Very familiar cursing and strange clattering come from inside the bathroom. At a particularly loud <em>clunk</em>, Wilbur sighs and twists the doorknob.</p><p>“What are you doing?”</p><p>Tommy’s head jerks to the side, blue eyes wide and guilty.</p><p>“Wilburrrr!” he shouts nervously, “Mah friend! Ayyyyy!” </p><p>Wilbur takes in the scene.</p><p>Tommy is standing over the sink, hands buried in his hair which is clumped with lightly colored goop. This same goop seems to have found its way to the bowl of the sink, the mirror, and Tommy's shirt collar. A bottle of <em> blondilicious </em> hair dye sits discarded on the edge of the counter.</p><p>“No,” Wilbur says immediately, shaking his head. “No, no, no. You cannot dye your hair.” </p><p>“Watch me, bitch boy.” Tommy turns back to face the mirror.</p><p>“Tommy!” there’s a warning in his voice.</p><p>The boy continues his approach to hair dye which seems to be globbing the mixture into his ungloved palm and shampooing the blond into his scalp. "You dye your hair!” Tommy says in defense.</p><p>Wilbur blows out a frustrated breath. “Yeah, because my hair is naturally flamingo’s arse pink.”</p><p>“And mine is shit brown.” </p><p>Exasperated, Wilbur glances around the bathroom, making eye contact with the magic blonde model on the torn open cardboard box sticking out of the bin. He glares at her <em> you did this.  </em></p><p>Being a stock picture, she doesn’t respond.</p><p>Huffing, Wilbur looks back up to Tommy. “Okay, but why blond?”</p><p>“What, did you think I’d go for ginger?” Looking at him through the mirror, Tommy fake gags. </p><p>Wilbur rolls his eyes. “No, really, why?” </p><p>“Phil’s blond,” Tommy says a little too casually as he experimentally tugs at his hair, gaze dropping to the counter.</p><p>And suddenly the dumb child bent over the sink smearing dye all over their porcelain isn’t as funny. </p><p>“Why do you wanna look like Phil?” Wilbur asks, voice carefully even.</p><p>Tommy continues working the color in, ignoring Wilbur's gaze burning into his neck. “Dunno. Just thought it’d be cool.” </p><p>“Tommy…” </p><p>“Don’t <em> Tommy </em> me,” he deepens his voice over his name in a poor imitation of Wilbur.</p><p>Wilbur sighs, something he does far too much for someone so young, and decides to pick his battles. He steps fully into the bathroom, taking a clearer look at the mess on his little brother’s formerly brunet head. </p><p>Wrinkling his nose, he pokes at the tangled strands. “You were supposed to bleach it first—<em> Jesus Christ </em>—” he mutters under his breath “—but I think this is salvageable.” He points to Tommy in the mirror. “I'm heading to the shops, you go to the shower and don’t do anything stupid while I'm gone.” </p><p>Tommy follows his order with a mocking salute that splatters color across the tile. </p><p>Not only is he a cool big brother, Wilbur’s also a merciful one so he saves his brother’s hair with his years of experience accumulated ever since he decided looking like Pinkie Pie wasn’t cool.</p><p>And maybe it’s a little therapeutic to get to shove Tommy’s head under the faucet for a few seconds.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy stares in the mirror with wonder, stained hands running through his newly blond hair.</p><p>“It looks good,” he says in bewilderment, eyes fixed on his head.</p><p>Wilbur stands proudly behind him, a small smirk on his lips. “You’re welcome.” </p><p>Tommy looks up, making eye contact with him. “Thanks Will,” he says quietly. </p><p>His smirk melts into a smile. “No problem, Tommy.” </p><p>His brother seems to decide that’s enough sappiness because he whirls around, nearly smacking Wilbur in the face, and declares “I can’t wait to show Phil when he gets home.” A beat later, he adds, “And Techno.” </p><p>The edges of Wilbur’s smile feel the slightest bit heavier, but he replies, “Yeah, me too.” </p><p>But Phil and Techno don’t come home at the end of the week. Or the next. Or the one after that.</p><p>They send letters though, and Wilbur and Tommy write back, but two pages of writing don't make up for two thousand blocks and realms and worlds between them.</p><p>When the dye begins to fade and Tommy starts to get mopey, Wilbur sighs, tugs him into the bathroom, and fishes out another bottle.</p><p> </p><p>They establish a routine that only gets disrupted when Tommy leaves for the SMP.</p><p>He doesn’t know why he doesn’t just let his hair grow brown again. Perhaps it's because it's been so long and his new friends have never seen him as a brunet and maybe he just likes how he feels blond.</p><p>Wilbur showed him how to do his hair by himself, just in case, but he’s never needed to until now. </p><p>It comes out alright the first time. Better the next. Practically perfect the time after that. He thinks Wilbur would be proud.</p><p> </p><p>Dream is the only one to comment on it, a simple “You dye your hair?” </p><p>Tommy’s hands fly up to his head, he was so sure he did a good job on his roots.</p><p>Dream sounds amused, “Your eyebrows, Tomathy.” </p><p>One hand drifts down to his eyebrow, still the shit brown he was born with.</p><p>“Oh,” he says, face red.</p><p>“Don’t worry,” Dream says, ruffling Tommy’s blond hair even as the other protests. “Your secret’s safe with me.” </p><p>Tommy's not sure if their other friends haven’t noticed or just don’t care, but no one else brings it up to him, so he considers it his best kept secret of all time.</p><p> </p><p>When Wilbur joins the SMP, Tommy's ecstatic. They’re going to start businesses and empires and countries. They’re going to scam for money and sell drugs. They’re going to make the server their bitch. (And also, maybe, it won’t have to be Tommy alone talking to himself as he touches up his roots.) </p><p>Tommy's not really sure how to broach the topic with him when the time comes, but it turns out he doesn’t need to, because one day he wakes up to loud shuffling in his bathroom and an impatient Wilbur gesturing him over with gloved hands.</p><p>They manage to keep this up even through the war, slipping away from the others with excuses of “War planning stuff. Real Big Man Shit™. Just for us two.” Tommy pretends to not feel Tubbo’s curious gaze and Fundy’s jealous stare.</p><p>Even when everything goes to shit—worse than shit—his brown never peeks through for more than a day before it’s hidden away again.</p><p>(That first day when he joined Pogtopia, Technoblade stares at Tommy for a long moment, red brown eyes glaring into his soul. Tommy stares back, wondering if his brother will say something, but Techno just huffs and moves on. Tommy’s not sure what to call that feeling in his stomach.) </p><p>Towards the end of it all, Tommy stands hesitantly on the other side of Wilbur’s door, bouncing on his heels with a bottle in his hands. He raises his hand to knock, but just as quickly yanks it down. He tries again. Fails again. </p><p>Tommy sighs, spinning on his heel and heading for his own room. All that practice from the beginning of the SMP will come back to him now.</p><p> </p><p>The Fall of L’Manburg. He doesn’t want to talk about the Fall of L’Manburg. </p><p>What came afterwards is nicer, a sunset and music with the people he loves (and a few he hates), hope nestling in his gut for the first time (just hope and not uncertainty, not apprehension) and he can pretend that the brown clinging to his scalp is only dirt (well, some of it is).</p><p>Phil’s here. For the first time in what feels like lifetimes, his dad is there to wrap him in his wings and place his hands on his shoulders and smile warmly at him. Phil looks at him, fondness and love and everything Tommy's ever wanted in his gaze. </p><p>“Nice hair,” he says simply, before wandering off to talk to Fundy and Karl Jacobs. </p><p>In the moment, Tommy beams, chest feeling lighter than ever. </p><p>That night, he fills his pillow with tears and angry cries.</p><p> </p><p>His next few months on the SMP are the same as his first, perfectly practiced dye jobs by himself. He just has to work harder to ignore the cold space at his side and the blood under his fingernails after he scrubs too hard.</p><p>When he’s <strike>betrayed kicked out abandoned</strike> exiled, they don’t give him a chance to pack. ConnorEatsPants finds a drawer full of expired bottles of <em> blondilicious </em> hair dye. He shrugs and throws them out.</p><p> </p><p>One day in Logstedshire, Tommy leans over the lake and finds that he’s nearly fully brunet again. </p><p>He’s stunned when he catches that first glimpse of his reflection and he kneels there, staring at the boy in the lake until his eyes go blurry.</p><p>The coat on his shoulders. The color of his hair.</p><p>Tommy thrusts his fists into the water to make it go away.</p><p><em>Fucking pussy.</em> Even if he had his dye, he’d need someone else to do it for him, Tommy can’t stand looking at himself anymore.</p><p>But nobody’s here.</p><p>Wilbur’s gone. Ghostbur’s gone. Everybody’s gone. Everybody except Dream. But the Dream here with him is not the one who ran calloused fingers through his hair and swore to keep his secrets. This Dream wouldn’t be any help.</p><p>It’s not like it matters. Nobody’s here, so nobody’s seeing his hair. Nobody except Dream.</p><p>And Dream already knows what he is. </p><p>He’s dirty, muddy, shitty brown. Plain, boring, average, unremarkable brown. Just any kid that could be plucked off the street.</p><p>Not blond, brown. Not gold, gilded. Not Theseus, Tommy.</p><p>Just a kid.</p><p>Just any kid.</p><p>Just…</p><p>No one’s kid.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy’s digging through his chests for some food, attempting to quell that ever growing pit in his stomach, when he finds it. </p><p>Some blue, tucked neatly into the corner of a chest. When Tommy presses his fingers against the dye, they come away splotched with bright color. He rubs them together, smearing the blue across his thumb and first two fingers.</p><p>A slow smile spreads across his face.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> and he's blue. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i just think blue hair tommy pog. dunno if anyones drawn it or written it before but here he is</p><p>who's biologically related and who's adopted/found family in this fic? good question. take it as you will.</p><p>also, i so do not dye my hair and that's probably incredibly obvious. i watched, like, half a brad mondo video as research</p><p>(the lake scene is meant to be imagined akin to the very dramatic moment of zac efron in the bet on it music video)</p><p>OH follow my tumblr: @/businessbois, i post writing and compilations and analysis and headcanons sometimes</p></blockquote></div></div>
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